The Boyfriend of the Month Club (17 page)

On Saturday, business eased back to normal, so Grace left at noon and met Sarah for lunch at Luigi’s. Grace thought about telling Sarah about her “friends” date with Joe, but Sarah seemed so depressed it would have been insensitive, since Sarah’s romantic life was basically down the toilet. The hard part was not telling Sarah about Penny’s big upcoming news. But she didn’t want to steal Penny’s thunder or have to make Sarah promise to pretend that she didn’t already know about the engagement when Penny whipped out her ring to show them.

Bright and early on Monday, Grace pulled up to Florida Charlie’s with two cups of Starbucks coffee.

“Well, Gator Claus, pretty soon it’s just going to be you and me around here.”

Gator Claus looked down at the coffee with a wolfish gleam in his eye.

“Sorry, I didn’t get you any. Maybe next time, dude.” Grace took a deep breath, opened the door to the store, and plastered a great big smile on her face.

Penny was in the office, sorting through a stack of mail. She glanced up, spotted the coffee and moaned in appreciation. “You’re a goddess.”

Grace waited for the big announcement, but Penny continued tossing mail in the trash while she downed the coffee. She read the return address on one of the envelopes and laid it on Grace’s desk. “This one looks like a formal estimate from one of the roofing companies. Have you decided what you’re going to do?”

“Charlie and I have been talking, but I haven’t approached Pop yet. How was Thanksgiving?”

Why wasn’t Penny jumping up and down and showing off her ring? It’s what Grace would be doing.

“Thanksgiving was nice.”

“Just nice?”

“Butch’s aunt and uncle from Ocala came over. Butch’s mom kept stuffing food down my throat because she said I was too skinny, and I thought I was going to explode. One of the cousins drank too much and passed out on the bed I was supposed to sleep in, so I ended up on an air mattress in the family room, which was actually kind of nice because I got the room to myself. You know,” she shrugged, “typical family holiday get-together.”

Penny said that last part casually, but Grace knew family get-togethers were both exciting and stressful for Penny. Primarily because Penny didn’t have much of a family to begin with. Her mother had taken off shortly after Penny was born and left her in the care of an elderly aunt. “Mom” lived in a religious commune somewhere in Texas and only contacted Penny when she wanted money. Penny’s father had always been an unknown entity.

“Where did Butch sleep?”

“In his old room, with his brother.” Penny tossed the last piece of mail into the trash and took a long sip of her coffee. “His parents are fundamentalist Christians and they don’t believe in sex before marriage.”

“I thought fundamentalist Christians didn’t believe in drinking alcohol either.”

“I guess some of the fundamentals get hazy around the holidays.”

Grace smiled. “My parents would never go for sleeping in the same bedroom before marriage either. It’s like they don’t want to know you’re having sex, so by giving you separate rooms it makes them feel better.”

It was also about respecting their values, and Grace got it. She would never want to do anything that would make her parents or Abuela uneasy. In her experience, it was just best not to mention the sex thing at all, like it didn’t exist.

“So we drove back up on Saturday,” Penny continued, “and I helped Butch pack some of his stuff and yesterday he hit the road on his grand adventure.”

“But what about—” Grace took the coffee cup from Penny’s hands and set it on the desk. She flipped Penny’s left hand over. There was no ring. “What about your engagement?”

Penny pulled her hand away. She didn’t look surprised that Grace had known about the ring. “He asked. I said no. End of story.”

“But why? I thought that’s what you wanted!”

“To hop behind Butch on his motorcycle and traipse all over the country like a couple of gypsies? The ring was just Butch’s way of trying to get me to go along with his agenda. But he doesn’t want to compromise and I don’t want to be that woman who finds out five years after she’s married that she and her husband want different things. I don’t want to end up like Sarah and marry the wrong guy.”

“But Butch is the
right
guy and you know it.”

“He’s not the right guy if he doesn’t want to settle down and have kids. Not for me, he isn’t.”

“But—”

“No
buts
about it. And I really . . . I really don’t want to talk about this anymore. Okay? And please, don’t mention this to Ellen and Sarah. The less I have to think about it, the better.”

Grace wanted to protest again but she knew Penny well enough to know it would do no good. “All right,” Grace agreed, feeling strangely let down.

Never in a million years would she have guessed this outcome. She’d come into work today expecting to squeal over Penny’s ring and start making wedding plans. Now there wasn’t going to be a wedding. And Penny was still going to work at Florida Charlie’s, which, of course, was awesome for Grace. But Grace didn’t feel awesome and she couldn’t stamp out the niggling sensation that somehow, because she’d been pouting about losing Penny, she’d inadvertently put out some bad karma into the universe for her.

It was a disturbing thought.

14

The Most Dangerous Kind of Man Is One Who Actually Listens to You

A real cold front came in on Friday, which gave Grace a wider selection of what to wear for her dinner and coffee with Joe. He’d called to confirm but he hadn’t mentioned where they were going, although she didn’t think it was anywhere too fancy, so she put on her most flattering jeans, coupled with a long-sleeved white T-shirt, a funky neck scarf that Sarah had given her for her last birthday, and a short-waisted tan jacket. Joe wore jeans too, only he looked better in his than Grace did in hers, she thought not too begrudgingly. He opened the car door for her, but other than that he didn’t seem to be on date mode. They drove to a small seafood restaurant twenty miles north of town that Grace had never heard of.

“It’s a hole-in-the-wall, but they make great hush puppies here,” Joe said.

Grace ordered grilled scallops and Joe ordered the fried catfish and a bottle of wine.

“Do you eat here a lot?” Grace asked.

“I used to come here as a kid. My dad discovered this place.”

“How long have your parents been divorced?”

“Since I was ten.” Before she could ask, he said, “I’m thirty-two, so you do the math.”

“Any brothers or sisters?”

“A couple of half sisters from my dad’s second wife, but they’re six and eight. We aren’t close.”

She found out his father was a surgeon. Joe saw him a couple of times a year, and although he didn’t go into details she got the impression their relationship was strained. Joe’s mother never remarried and Joe was her only child. Grace didn’t ask what his mother did for a living, only because it seemed from the bits of information Joe dropped about her that she spent her time torn between being a professional shopper, a world traveler, or a spa reviewer. Either Joe’s mother was independently wealthy or she’d scored big in her divorce settlement against Joe’s father.

He asked about her family and she told him all about them and their Sunday ritual of Mass followed by supper. He laughed when she told him about the different nicknames Abuela gave everyone.

“I have a nickname for you too,” Grace said.

“Oh, yeah?” Joe leaned forward in his seat.

“Rosie Dimples.”

It clearly wasn’t what he expected, so she explained how she’d come to think of it the night they’d met at the Wobbly Duck.

“The guys on the rugby team call me Rosie. But the dimples part?” He shook his head.

“Hoping for something more macho?”

“Maybe.” He started to smile, then realizing that would make his dimples pop out, pretended to look serious. They both ended up laughing. “So do you think your
abuela
would like me?”

Abuela would love him. She’d take one look at those dimples of his, then he’d open his mouth and start speaking Spanish, and she’d be a goner. She speared a scallop off her plate. “I don’t know. Are you Catholic?”

He made a face, like he wasn’t, and Grace decided the conversation was running too close to the sort of interrogative banter that made up a date, so she changed the subject. “That night we met at the Wobbly Duck. Did you, um . . . did you see me leave the bar?”

“You mean did I see you dump that pitcher of beer over Farrell’s lap? Yeah, I think everyone saw that.”

“That wasn’t me. Well, it
was
me, but it was an accident. Not that I didn’t want to do it on purpose,” she added. “At least a side of me wanted to do it on purpose. I have this really bad temper, you see. My family even has a name for it.
Mal Genio
. It means—”

“Bad Angry One?”

“Not exactly. My brother gave me the name. He meant to call me Bad-Tempered One.”

Joe grinned. “Well,
Mal Genio
, on purpose or not, I’m sure Farrell deserved it. The guy’s an asshole.”

She liked how easily Joe worked her family nickname into their conversation, and how perfect his accent sounded when he said it.
Joe Rosenblum: Renaissance Man
. It hadn’t been too far from the truth.

“So you and Brandon are rugby rivals?”

“You could say that,” he said in a careful tone. “I’ve known him since college.” Joe’s gaze sharpened. “There’s nothing going on between you and Farrell, is there?”

“Between Brandon and me? We’ve had one date. You were there. You saw how fantastic it ended.”

He visibly relaxed. “He’s not what he seems to be, Grace.” And with that cryptic statement left hanging in the air, he excused himself to the restroom.

Grace downed the rest of her wine. What did Joe mean? That Brandon was two-faced? That he was exactly what she’d accused Joe of being? Disingenuous? It was almost like the pot calling the kettle black.

Maybe she shouldn’t worry about it. She was never going out with Brandon again so what did it matter? She should enjoy the evening for what it was and not overanalyze everything.

Grace settled back in her seat and took another look around the restaurant. It was small, basically just a narrow room with a wall of windows that faced the ocean, but Joe had been right about the food being excellent. She glanced out the window. The lights from the restaurant and the surrounding businesses illuminated the dark shoreline. She wondered if Joe would suggest a walk along the beach. Which, on second thought, seemed too romantic for a friends date.

A familiar laugh made her turn her head from the window. A few tables over, a woman with blonde hair sat with her back to Grace. Grace hadn’t noticed her before because Joe had blocked her view of the other tables, but now with his seat empty, Grace could almost make out the woman’s features. The woman laughed again and Grace stiffened.

Good Lord.
What was Sarah doing here? With
him
?

Grace set down her napkin and marched straight over to Sarah’s table. “Well, hello, you two.”

Sarah almost dropped her water glass. “What are you doing here?”

“I was just about to ask you the same thing.” She tried for a polite smile, but under the circumstances, it was damn near impossible. “Hello, Craig.”

Grace hadn’t seen Sarah’s almost-ex in six months, but he looked the same as always—cleanly shaven, his light brown hair impeccably groomed. Like one of those models who posed for the photo that came inside a store-bought frame, the one you slipped out and tossed in the trash before you put in the real picture.

“Hello, Grace.” Craig Douglas didn’t smile back. But he didn’t look hostile either. If anything, he seemed resigned to Grace’s anger.

“I’m here having dinner,” Grace said in answer to Sarah’s earlier question, but what she really wanted to say was,
What are you doing here with this creep? Laughing and acting like you’re on a date?
She wished she had the
huevos
to actually say it. But the last thing she wanted was to embarrass Sarah or bring her more grief. Lord knows that if Sarah was thinking of getting back with Craig, then the grief would come soon enough. She wanted to trust Sarah’s judgment on this, she really did, but Sarah didn’t know all the facts.

Grace felt Joe slip up behind her. There was no choice but to make introductions. Joe was friendly, but not overly friendly. He was astute enough to feel the tension in the air, which probably confused him, although it pleased Grace that he was able to read her vibe so well.

Joe placed his palm against Grace’s lower back. It was an intimate gesture. One that felt strangely comforting too. “The waiter wants to know if we want dessert.”

“I’m full, but thanks.”

Joe said his good-byes and left to take care of the check.

“I hope you two know what you’re doing,” Grace said before walking away.

“So what was that about?” Joe asked once they were in the car.

“That was my best friend. And her soon to be ex-husband.”

“Ex-husband, huh?”

“Yeah, they looked pretty cozy to me too.”

He didn’t say anything more, which was good, because Grace wasn’t in the mood to talk. They were almost to the Daytona Beach city limits when he asked if she wanted to stop for the coffee part of their date.

“How about something stronger?” Grace said.

Joe pulled into the parking lot of an unfamiliar bar. It took her a minute to realize it was the bar near the Wobbly Duck that he’d invited her to the night they’d met. They sat in a booth near the back which, under different circumstances, might have been romantic, but there was a different buzz in the air between them and once again, Grace found herself grateful that Joe seemed sensitive to her mood. She’d gone out with guys before who were social idiots and it had been a huge turnoff.

Joe ordered a beer and Grace ordered a white wine. Grace took one sip of her Chardonnay and blurted, “Craig cheated on Sarah. And it’s my fault.”

“How is it your fault?” He lowered his gaze. “Unless—”